


i don't bite but i heard you might

by Arkham



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Blood, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Hockey Fights, Kneeling, M/M, Porn With Plot, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 20:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18557245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkham/pseuds/Arkham
Summary: “Next time we play Aeros, I show Hendrick what happens when you play like rat,” Alexei says matter-of-factly, eyes darkening in a way that makes Kent’s stomach flip. He cups Kent’s cheek and presses a kiss to his sweat-slicked forehead. “Go. Show them how real captain plays.”





	i don't bite but i heard you might

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes you have to write 2k of patater smut to procrastinate writing your novel length fic ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Title from MAX's _Puppeteer_
> 
> Hover over the Russian words for the pronunciation/definition. They're also in the endnotes for mobile users :)

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me? Are you fucking _blind_? Hendrick crosschecked Harps to the _fucking head_ and _I’m_ getting an instigator penalty? That’s fucking _bullshit_ ,” Kent spits. He tries to break the linesman’s grip and lunge towards Hendrick again when two more sets of hands grab him and haul him back. He tries to shake out of their grasp but there are too many of them.

“It’s not worth it, Parser,” Swoops mutters under his breath. “We’re up three points. They’re just trying to shake up our d.”

Kent snarls but lets himself be dragged back to the bench. “What the fuck ever, man. Show those assholes how we do it in Vegas.”

Coach hardly looks up from his notes, just points at Kent then points down the tunnel.

Kent goes, accepting the towel from the assistant coach to press to his nose to stem some of the bleeding. He’s still seething, primed to lash out at anyone who comes too close.

The Aces’ medic tells him his nose isn’t broken, makes him sit until it stops bleeding, and lets him go only after making him promise to drink some water.

He trudges back into the locker room, fists clenched at his sides, and almost runs straight into Alexei.

“What are you doing down here?” Kent growls. He can see the concern in Alexei’s big puppy-dog eyes and he _hates_ it. He knows the Falcs are on a tour of the western conference, but he hadn’t expected to see them until they pass through Vegas Monday. Alexei must have flown in early.

“You go down hard. Make sure you do not break pretty face,” Alexei says, arching an eyebrow. He brushes his fingers on Kent’s chin to tilt his face up and Kent jerks his head away.

“I’m _fine_ , Mashkov,” Kent barks. “Fucking— fucking _Aeros_ , man. Wouldn’t know how to play clean fuckin’ hockey if it stabbed them in the face. And it just fucking _might_ if they keep playing like they do. Did you _see_ the hit Paulson pulled on Bells? That was fucking boarding clear as day and there’s _nothing_ , no call.”

“Yes, I see,” Alexei responds, voice low like he’s trying to soothe an injured animal. Which, hey, isn’t far off.

Kent’s rant continues.

“And then that _beast_ of a d-man almost decapitates Spence and we don’t get a goalie interference call? It’s absolute bullshit, is what it is. And people think _we’re_ the dirty team. Their _captain_ crosschecked a _nineteen-year-old_ in the _head_. Talk about _class_.”

Kent doesn’t realize how close he’s gotten to Alexei until he’s peering up at him.

“Done?” Alexei asks.

“Uhhhh,” Kent replies dumbly.

Alexei nods. He brings his hand up to Kent’s chin again and this time Kent lets him. He runs his thumb across the bruise forming on Kent’s cheek, the cut on his lip.

“Next time we play Aeros, I show Hendrick what happens when you play like rat,” Alexei says matter-of-factly, eyes darkening in a way that makes Kent’s stomach flip. He cups Kent’s cheek and presses a kiss to his sweat-slicked forehead. “Go. Show them how real captain plays.”

 

 

—————

 

 

The next time the Falcs play the Aeros, Kent is watching the game from the box. Zakharov and Thompson are there—the two healthy scratches—and they’re both dicking around with something on their phones, paying no attention whatsoever to the ice.

The Aces have a four-day break between games so Kent has flown out to watch Alexei play. Definitely. That is definitely the only reason he has flown across the country. Kent is a good boyfriend, what can he say.

It’s a physical game from the start and the Aeros are up three-two halfway through the second when it happens. Kent is tracking the puck so he doesn’t see how it starts, but the crowd roars, the play is whistled dead, and it takes two linesmen, Robinson, and Jack to drag Alexei off of Hendrick.

They’re both still screaming at each other and it’s only thanks to Jack and Robinson’s iron grip on each of Alexei’s arms that he gets dragged off the ice without throwing another punch.

“Christ, did you catch what pissed Tater off?” Thompson asks, watching the fight on the TV replay.

“No. Can ask after game. Hendrick likes to play dirty, no?” Zakharov replies. He glances over at Kent. “Parson?”

“Uhh— oh, no, I didn’t catch what pissed him off,” Kent replies, shaking himself back into the moment. “I’ve gotta take a piss,” he mutters, turning abruptly on his heel. It’s a bit of an awkward thing, but one subtle glance backward tells Kent they’re already playing with their phones again.

He knows the Falcs’ arena almost as well as he knows his own and he makes it to the home locker room in five minutes flat.

Alexei is there and he’s _fuming_ , pacing back and forth while holding an ice pack to a pretty nasty cut on his cheek.

Kent doesn’t stop walking until he’s crowding Alexei into the wall—a feat considering the other man has almost nine inches on him in skates. “That was so fucking hot,” he mumbles, tangling his hand in Alexei’s hair and dragging him down until their mouths crash together.

The kiss tastes like ice and blood and Kent almost loses his footing right there, goes so weak in the knees that Alexei has to loop an arm around his waist to keep him steady. It’s an awkward angle and Kent’s neck is already beginning to protest but then Alexei does this _thing_ with his _tongue_ and Kent is absolutely lost. He moans and feels Alexei grin into the kiss.

“Thought you fly in tomorrow,” Alexei says, pulling back.

Kent chases him up, biting another kiss to his lips, his jaw.

“Flew in today.” Kent presses his nose into the side of Alexei’s neck and curls one hand in the front of his jersey. He tugs at it impatiently and glances back up. “I wanna blow you.” It comes out like a whine.

Alexei laughs. “You know I am in middle of game, yes?”

“Lyoshaaa,” Kent whines and Alexei’s eyes darken like they always do when Kent uses that name.

Alexei leans down and catches Kent’s mouth with his own and for a heartbeat, Kent thinks he’s gotten what he’s wanted, but Alexei is gone just as fast as he’d come.

“Patience, **Птичка** ,” Alexei murmurs, running his thumb across Kent’s lower lip as he pouts and gently nudging Kent down so he’s flat-footed. Then he’s grinning again. “You blow me after every fight, maybe I fight more.”

“You think I won’t?” Kent shoots back.

Alexei shakes his head but his eyes crinkle at the corners. He presses a kiss to the crown of Kent’s head. “Meet after?” he asks into Kent’s hair.

Kent tugs once more at the hem of Alexei’s jersey. “Yeah.”

 

 

—————

 

 

It takes everything Kent has to act normal when he returns to the box. Zakharov and Thompson seem to have abandoned their phones and start actually paying attention to the game, and don’t even glance over when Kent walks back in.

Kent vibrates his way through the third period. He’s on his feet and striding out of the box seconds after the buzzer sounds. The final score is six-three Falcs but Kent couldn’t tell you who scored those last four goals.

Alexei is grinning when he makes his way out of the locker room and Kent has to shove his hands into his pockets to stop himself from running over and jumping him again. What can he say? Kent is a simple man with simple needs. One of those needs happens to be climbing his boyfriend on the regular. And it has been _so long_.

“Staying in _again_ , Tater?” Kent hears someone—Fairfax?—call from inside the locker room. “You gonna tell us about this girl?”

Alexei flips them off. “No girl, just tired of your ugly face.” He spots Kent and the smile slides into something less innocent as he sidles over. A bruise is blooming around the cut on his cheek and Kent wants to touch.

“Good game,” Kent says, trying and failing to sound casual.

Alexei slings an arm around Kent’s shoulders and drags him along as they walk. “Scotty’s first hat trick of season. Will not shut up about for weeks,” Alexei says, rolling his eyes.

Kent hums and once they’re just out of eyesight and earshot of the media and the team, Kent shifts and presses Alexei into the wall, curling his hands in the front of his nicely-pressed shirt and biting down his neck.

“ **блять** ,” Alexei says and laughs breathily. “You really want?”

“Yeah, _fuck_ , Lex, I really fucking want.”

Alexei grunts and bodily handles Kent a few steps down the hallway and into a deserted meeting room.

Kent is on Alexei before the door even closes, drags his head down and pulls him in for a kiss that’s all lust and no skill. Alexei doesn’t seem to care and meets Kent halfway, lacing his hands through Kent’s hair and tugging so their teeth don’t click together. Kent whines, already so keyed up that he feels like his skin is on fire.

Alexei breaks the kiss with a breathy chuckle. “So loud. Someone will hear.”

“Shut _up_ you asshole it’s been _ah_ —“ Kent’s voice cuts off into a gasp when Alexei bites a mark into his neck.

“We go home and I fuck you until you scream,” Alexei murmurs into Kent’s ear all casually, like it’s not the hottest fucking thing Kent has heard in weeks, and oh, Kent _wants_ , but they’re already _here_ and Kent has never been a patient man.

He leans forward, slotting his thigh between Alexei’s legs and finds him half hard. It’s in sharp contrast to Kent’s almost painfully hard erection, but it’s something that can be remedied quickly enough. The grinding pressure on Kent’s dick is so much and not enough. Kent’s eyes flutter shut, his mouth falls open. Alexei kisses him messily, hands going down to grip Kent’s ass and tug him forward. The dry rub of fabric on his dick is just this side of painful and it sends jolts straight down to Kent’s toes.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fucking— I’m gonna fucking come in my pants if you keep— _doing that_ ,” Kent mumbles against Alexei’s lips.

“Do it,” Alexei growls, tugging Kent up again by the belt loops.

Kent’s jaw goes slack at the command, his breath catching in his throat and his thoughts going to static. He buries his face in the crook of Alexei’s neck and loses himself in it—the friction, the heat, the nails dragging up his back and marking him up for everyone to see. He comes with a moan that Alexei swallows with his mouth, hips stuttering as he rides out his orgasm on Alexei’s thigh.

He comes back to himself slightly and becomes aware of Alexei murmuring in his ear in a combination of English and Russian. “So good, **Птичка** , so good for me.”

Kent takes a shaky breath and ignoring the tacky feeling in his underwear, falls to his knees. The thud is muffled by the carpet. Alexei threads one hand through Kent’s hair again and Kent leans into the touch, eyes sliding shut until a gentle tug reminds him why he’s down there in the first place. He could have stayed there forever, honestly—kneeling in front of Alexei, the other man’s massive hand curling through his hair.

Now, though, he has other plans.

Alexei already has his belt buckle undone so Kent unbuttons his slacks, tugs down the zipper, and mouths at his dick through his underwear. Alexei exhales shakily, hand tightening in Kent’s hair.

Kent takes the hint, tugs Alexei free of his boxer briefs, and takes a minute to just _take it all in_. He gives Alexei a few experimental strokes and blinks up with a frown when Alexei starts laughing.

“You look at my cock like it is gold,” he chirps. “Promise it is flesh and blood just like rest of me.”

“’S not my fault you have a fuckin’ porn star dick, Mashkov,” Kent mutters as his cheeks heat up. As if to prove it to him, Kent leans forward and licks a stripe up Alexei’s dick from base to tip.

Alexei makes a small noise that sends jolts straight to Kent’s stomach. Alexei, unlike Kent, tends to keep quiet when it comes to sex, so Kent swallows every noise he makes like it’s nectar.

Alexei’s dick really is that fucking big so Kent brings up a hand to curl around the base of it while he works the head with his mouth. He alternates between a sucking pressure and swirls of his tongue and it’s not long before Alexei’s fingers start twitching in his hair, the way they do when he starts to lose composure.

“Kent—“ Alexei grunts and Kent just hums around Alexei’s dick.

That’s what sends him over the edge and Alexei spills down Kent’s throat with a stifled gasp.

Kent pulls back with a _pop_ and wipes away the mixture of come and spit from his chin with the back of his hand. He tucks Alexei’s dick haphazardly back into his boxer briefs.

“You still wanna take me home and fuck me ’til I scream?” Kent asks in a tone far too cocky for a man on his knees.

Alexei shifts and Kent is being manhandled to his feet and dragged into an open-mouthed kiss.

“That is the first of many things I want to do to you.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **Птичка** = (PTEECH-ka; “little bird”)  
>  **блять** = (blyat, “fuck”)
> 
> I have a [tumblr](https://leviathan.tumblr.com) and a [hockey tumblr](https://bradmarch.tumblr.com).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
